The woman from room 418
by Splendid31
Summary: Dr. Brennan emerges from her critical condition in the hospital with one minor problem...she has no idea who on earth she is. AU, sometime after season 3. Mild spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own Bones or the Characters represented within. All rights belong to the creators and Fox. No copyright infringement intended—I'm just an admirer!_

--

**This is something sort of random that came to me today while I was trying to keep from going out of my mind at work. If it's been done before, I'm sorry! There's too many fics on this site for me to possibly have gone through them all!**

The woman in room 418 stirs, one small finger twitching on the bedsheet—a movement many would miss, but not the man sitting in the vinyl chair to her left. He sits straight up, his whole body taut, staring at that one little finger.

"You alright there?" inquires a passing nurse who saw the man's abrupt movement.

The man does not answer, instead staring at the woman's hand, boring into it with his gaze, never blinking.

The nurse watches for a moment and continues along, only pausing to hitch up the box of linens under her arm, securing it tighter against her batik-print scrubs.

"Everything alright down there, Alma?" inquires another nurse, coming out of her station.

"Ah, yeah, just the same thing that's been happening, that's all, Louise," the first woman sighs, handing her colleague the box. "He's just staring at her again. I guess he thought he saw her move, poor bastard."

Behind her, away from her vision, the woman in room 418 moves again.

The woman in room 418 opens her eye.

--

The whole thing was a bit clichéd, really, when you broke it down. Young forensic anthropologist paired with handsome, devoted FBI agent find themselves in peril, she gets attacked, he intervenes, and all seems well again.

Until the attacker got in one final swing, smashing her in the ankle with his gun, bringing her head down, connecting to the concrete floor with a thud.

The papers gobbled it up, splashing the man and woman's pictures about, talking about the possible melodrama of it all.

Yet the media tires quickly if nothing else, and soon she was forgotten by most of the world. Slowly, unbeknownst to her, she dissolved into little more than the woman in room 418.

Over the course of six months, the steady stream of visitors trickled to a chosen few, the man seemingly taking up residence in the vinyl chair by her bedside, appearing at her side directly after work each day, staring at her as if he was trying to will her to move.

--

The woman in room 418 opened her eye, prompting the man by her side to jump fully out of the chair, grasping both her shoulders in his hands and staring down at her. Her other eye opened, taking him in, both blue orbs widening in some sort of surprise.

The man backed up quickly, stumbling over the edge of the bed as he ran, tripping, out into the hall, sliding to a stop in front of the nurse's station. Louise looked up calmly as he grasped the cracked Formica.

"She's awake!" he nearly shouted in her face.

"Who's awake, Mr. Booth?" she replied, hardly doubting what he was saying could be true. Louise Ferrington was not a stupid woman. She saw hundreds of patients come in and out of her wing over the past 12 years, and she knew the chances of that woman waking up now were not as high as the eager FBI agent before her wanted to believe.

"Bones—I mean, Temperance, Dr. Brennan, 418. She's awake!"

Louise had barely opened her mouth to speak when his large hand closed around her wrist and dragged her down the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

_Standard disclaimer applies...I don't own Bones or Fox, and absolutely no copyright infringement is intended...just admiring a little & trying to overcome some writer's block!_

--

Brennan laid on the bed, unmoving. She was growing increasingly aware of people coming in and out of the room, and was starting to wonder why these people were disturbing her sleep. Slowly, she cracked open one eye.

Where was she? She didn't recognize the pea-green paint above her.

Before she could even begin to process this realization, a man's head popped in her line of vision. He looked tired, yet his face broke into a smile as he grabbed her shoulders and said something about bones. Bones? Was there a dog around?

The man disappeared, and Brennan took the opportunity to lift up her head and see where she was, and what sort of bones might be lying about.

Her eyes grew wide as she took in what appeared to be a hospital room.

Suddenly the man came sliding back into the room, clutching the thin wrist of a thirty-something woman with black hair, dressed in some sort of scrubs. She was quickly trailed by a man with a clipboard.

The first man smiled, tears pricking his brown eyes and approached her. She took in his sturdy build and brown hair, mussed from being pressed against the vinyl of the chair for so long.

She guessed that he was some sort of businessman from the black suit he was wearing, and she allowed her eyes to drift down his body until—

"Get him away!" she shouted, scrambling into the corner of the bed farthest from the man. "Get him away!" she gestured frantically at the man, pleading at the black haired woman who she guessed was a nurse.

The man stopped in his tracks, his face taking on a look of concern.

"He's got a _gun_!" Brennan shouted again, pointing at his waist.

The nurse looked at her quizzically.

"Of course he's got a gun, honey," she said. "You know that."

Brennan slumped back against the headboard, incredibly confused.

"Why would I know that?" she snapped. "I don't even know this man. I don't know any of you. Would somebody just tell me what the hell you are all doing here? What I'm doing here?"

The man laughed nervously.

"C'mon, Bones, don't joke around," he said, faltering. "You know I carry a gun. Aren't you always asking for it? 'Booth, give me a gun. Booth, let me drive.'"

Brennan scrunched up her nose.

"Who's Booth?"

--

Three hours later, Booth found himself plunked once again in a vinyl chair, this one in the imaging department. Burying his face in his hands, his mind reeled around what was happening.

_She doesn't know me. How can she not know me? I've been with her every day for two years, I was there when she went down, I've been there every day since. I talked to her while she was in that coma, what ever happened to coma patients being able to hear visitors? How can she not know my voice? How can she not know, not have any idea that I've been here, that I—"_

"Booth, sweetie?"

His head popped up at the sound of Angela's voice and he looked at the people scurrying down the hallway. The artist got to him first, landing in the chair next to him with a rubberized sort of thud.

"Careful, Angela," he managed to spit out in a sort of half-chuckle. "Your legs are going to stick to that chair, I guarantee it. They're solid plastic and glue."

"Never mind that, Booth. What happened? Where is she? What do you mean, 'she doesn't know who I am'? What kind of message is that? You can't just leave that on someone's voicemail, Booth."

He shook a thumb over his shoulder at the glass doors behind him.

"She's through there," he said. "They're doing a CAT scan on her brain to see what happened…to see why she doesn't seem to know who anyone is anymore. That's what I was talking about, Angela….she doesn't know who I am." He dropped his head into his hands once more as Angela began to rub his back, shooting a concerned look at Hodgins leaning against the far wall.

"Booth, sweetie, you mean she—"

Angela was cut off by a tall man emerging through the doors behind them.

"Agent Booth?"

"That's me," he said, lifting his head once more. "What's happened to her?"

"The scans show some damage to critical areas of brain tissue," the doctor said. "We are afraid that Dr. Brennan is suffering from a form of post-traumatic retrograde amnesia."

"English, please…she's the one who's good with all the medical terms, doc," Booth sighed into his hands.

"Well, Mr. Booth, she might not be anymore. As a result of Dr. Brennan's head trauma, the brain tissues are no longer transmitting the same memories that they once were. Dr. Brennan is currently not aware of events occurring before today, you see."

"How long will this last? Forever?"

"At this point in time, it's hard to say. We think that this may be a form of source amnesia—that is, she will eventually recall certain pieces of information but be confused as to how she knows these things."

Angela looked at the doctor.

"Well, what are we supposed to do? She doesn't have anyone except for us…and she doesn't know who we are! We can't just turn her out onto the streets."

The doctor laughed, prompting a glare from the group. "Erm, no. That's not to be expected, Ms, um—"

"Montenegro."

"Ms Montenegro. Well, we suggest a reintroduction period to take place in the hospital before we release Dr. Brennan into your custody. At this point, you can really only attempt to reestablish trust and relationships. It is key that you convince her that she can trust you."

"OF COURSE she can trust us!" Booth shouted, jumping out of the hard chair and pacing back and forth across the floor. "Trust us? _Trust us_? I'd give my life for her, she knows that…or she did…."

Angela stood up and embraced him.

"Booth, shh, it's okay, we'll get her back, okay, we will. We just have to work with her…"

"Good God, Ange, it was hard enough sometimes when she was all together there…and now…she has no idea who I am. She has _no idea_ who. I. am. None. She doesn't know how wonderful she is, what she does, what we've done…"

Angela simply held him as he slowly began to crack apart in her arms, her own tears falling into his hair as she thought about the road that lay ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

_I don't own Bones--they belong to the folks at Fox--nor do I pretend to. This is just a little bit of flattery & an attempt at trumping a bad bout of writer's block!_

--

_I don't know them…but I know them…so they say…_

Her fingers curled, tightening around the arms of her chair, as the door swung open to reveal one of the hospital's doctors.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Bre—"

"Doctor. Doctor Brennan" she snapped, recalling what the nurse had told her. Louise had said she was a doctor. What kind, she wasn't sure, but the title was something to hold onto.

"Very well then, Dr. Brennan. It's time for your meeting!" he stepped back, allowing Boot space to tentatively enter the room. He smiled, raising his arm up in a little wave as Brennan responded with a tiny one of her own.

"Hi," he said, all too aware of the various possibilities that could come as a result of this conversation. "Um….I'm Booth, Seeley Booth…I work with you…"

"What do we do?" she interjected, impatient to find out all the things she still didn't know.

He faltered, remembering that the doctor had told him not to reveal too much at once.

"You…you do some amazing things," he said. "At work, you…you piece together clues, like a puzzle, and you help give people answers."

"Do _you_ give people answers?" she asked, loosening her grip on the armrests.

"Well, yes, I do. With you."

"Will you give me _my_ answers?"

--

Booth returned to the hall, motioning for Angela to go inside.

"Hey, man, how'd it go?" Hodgins asked, sitting down next to him, Zach watching from a few seats away.

"As good as I could expect I suppose…I look at her, and I just want to tell her how much she's done…but she doesn't remember any of it yet…"

"Relax, man. Maybe Angela can work some magic on her."

"Maybe."

--

"Hey, sweetie!"

Brennan looked up at the chipper brunette rushing in through the door. Before Brennan could even register her presence, Angela had thrown herself down in the chair next to her.

"Hi. I'm Angela. I work for you…basically, you're my boss, so I do what you say, then I try to drag you out and get you to live it up a little bit!"

"Live it up?"

"Just a phrase, sweetie."

"Are we friends, Angela?"

"Best." She replied with a dazzling grin.

"Can I ask you a question, then, Angela?" before the other woman could even respond, Brennan plowed on. "That man, Agent Booth…how close am I to him, exactly?"

--

"You told her _what_? Angela!"

"Look, Booth, I'm sorry, but I was just trying to make her life a little better, and she asked how close you two were—I just jumped at the chance, all right? What, do you really object?"

"Not to the idea, but the way you did it—hell, Angela! Are you trying to mess her up even more?"

--

Four hours later, Brennan slid down the plastic sides of the chair, her head slumping onto her shoulder. She liked all of her supposed friends, she figured, but her brain swam at the prospect of trying to place all the pieces of her life back together. Snippets of the day's conversations came flooding back into her mind.

_Your name is Dr. Temperance Brennan…amnesia…eventually remember….confused…Agent Booth…puzzles…relationship…job…reintegration…therapy…_

Brennan shook her head, attempting to clear the thoughts.

_I work with these people, they are my friends…Angela said that Agent Booth was more than that…I can't remember…please, please, please…_

--

"Here you go!" Booth swung the door open, stepping back so Brennan could get a look inside of what, to her, was her "new" apartment.

"I live here?"

"Yes you do, Bones, yes you do…I mean, Dr. Brennan. You live here, Dr. Brennan."

"Why do you call me that?"

"It's just a nickname," he said, dropping her bags on the floor by the wall. "Never mind. How about I get you something to eat?"

Brennan nodded distractedly, running her fingers along the smooth wood of her bookshelves. She let her gaze drift out the window, thinking again about her unknown life, only pausing when she felt her fingers hit something cool and smooth.

Booth heard her shout while his head was stuck inside the refrigerator.

He emerged from the kitchen to find Brennan staring at the floor, where the once-reconstructed skull lay shattered on the floor. Slowly, she bent down and picked up two of the pieces, attempting to realign their grooves.

"Is this what you meant by puzzles?" she asked, looking up at Booth.

"I think it's time to take you over to the lab," he said quietly.

--

"I do _what_?" she whispered again, staring at the table.

"You examine…bones."

"That's the kind of doctor I am? A bone doctor?"

"Well, yeah. But a dead-person bone doctor."

Brennan was aware that, according to society—at least the parts she was aware of so far—she should have been disturbed by the wall of bones in front of her. Instead, she felt strangely peaceful in front of the bone-filled drawers stretching from the floor upwards. Slowly, she pulled on a pair of gloves from a nearby table, running her hands over the bones in one of the drawers.

Booth stood to the side, leaning against the railing, watching the woman once considered to be the most brilliant forensic anthropologist in North America attempt to discover that fact for herself.


	4. Chapter 4

_I do not own Bones or the Characters represented within. All rights belong to the creators and Fox. No copyright infringement intended—I'm just an admirer!_

_Thanks to all the wonderful people who read & reviewed this story! It brings me smiles!_

**IMPORTANT: This chapter contains spoilers for 3.13, "The verdict in the story"**

--

"How can I help you, Agent Booth? You know, I'm a free man now, so if you're here to arrest me, I suggest you try again another day."

Max Keenan leaned against the door frame to the small apartment he began renting once released after his trial. He looked at Booth, waiting for him to speak.

"She's awake. She's been awake since Tuesday."

"Let me get this straight, Booth—my daughter has been awake for three days, and you're just telling me now? "

"Come on, Max, you didn't see the woman for fifteen years. Three days won't kill you," Booth said, pushing past the older man and entering the apartment. "The doctors advised us introduce her life in sections, starting with the people she sees the most." Booth looked pointedly at her father as he finished, waiting for the man's response. When none came, he continued with a sigh. "She has amnesia, Max. She has no idea who she is or what she does."

--

"I'm telling you Russ, this is my big chance!"

Max pressed the receiver into his shoulder as he dumped a pile of newspapers into the garbage, listening to his son's agitated response.

"No, Dad. I am not going to let you do this. You can not go in there and pretend you've been around her whole life—what's going to happen when she remembers, huh?"

"Russ, she has _amnesia._ That's just it, she won't remember anything. Only what we tell her."

--

Brennan cracked open her front door. Through the slit, she could see Booth smiling at her. She had spent the better part of the morning trying to adjust to the pieces of her forgotten self strewn around the apartment, and wasn't quite sure she could take much more "remembering."

"Hi, Booth," she said, stepping back to allow him room to enter the apartment.

"Hey, Bones…how are things going?"

She stepped back and looked at him for a moment. She knew it was okay to tell him these things, and felt strangely comfortable around him, yet it bothered her that she could remember none of their previous dealings.

"Okay, I guess. I've been working all day at trying to remember things. But no matter how hard I try I can't. I can't remember everything." She slumped down into her chair, smacking her hand against the armrest in frustration. "Look at this! Look at all these things! All of these pieces of my life, all these things I should know, but I don't….it's all gone for me, Booth, it's all gone."

--

Brennan woke up the next day, staring at her ceiling. After her breakdown yesterday, Booth had calmed her down, then told asked her about meeting her father. She requested to do it today, once she had time to recuperate from yesterday's stress. Puttering into the kitchen she pulled the day's paper out of its sleeve, sitting down with her copy.

She was saddened to see the headline that shouted forth from the page, blaring the news that a missing seven-year-old girl had been found, dead, during the night. She looked at the picture of the little girl, a file photo that showed her sitting on her stoop, holding a little plastic pig in one hand.

A small smile flitted across Brennan's face even as she looked at the little girl's photo, namely the pig clutched in her hand.

_Looks like Jasper,_ she thought. _I wonder where she got that little pig…_

Brennan plunked her coffee cup down with a thud. Where did that thought come from? What was a Jasper?

Laying the paper down, she walked out into the living room and stared at her bookshelf. There, on the third shelf from the top, was a small plastic pig nearly identical to the one in the photo. She turned it over in her hand, looking for something to clue her in as to how pigs had anything to do with a "Jasper", whatever that was. At a loss, she placed the figurine back on the shelf and went to get dressed.

--

It was decided that the next part of the "remembering" process would take place in the hospital as well, lest Brennan become overwhelmed by too many different "new" places.

She waited alone in the room, staring once again at the beige door across from her. When it finally opened, she briefly saw Booth flash a smile at her before an older man entered, followed by a younger one closer to her own age who shut the door behind them.

"Hi, there, honey," the older man said, smiling as he sat down. "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course she doesn't, Dad," the younger man said. "Don't make it harder for her."

The older man smiled at her again. "I'm your father," he said, not waiting for a response. "My name is Max. This fellow here," he gestured to the younger man who was looking at him warily, "is Russ. He's your brother."

"Oh," Brennan choked out, too busy processing the information to say any more. Then she paused her thinking, looking at the two people in front of her.

"Don't I have a mother?" she asked. "Or is she dead?"

"I'm sorry, honey," Max said. "Your mother died when you were 15. I raised you and your brother by myself after that. I never remarried."

Brennan noticed the man who was, apparently, her brother, shift uncomfortably in his chair. She wished she was better at reading people—where was Booth when she needed him, he'd know…

_Wait a minute. How do I know what he's better at than me? I don't remember anything about our partnership…_

Brennan shook the self-doubts off for the second time that day and refocused her attention on the men in front of her.

--

Brennan sat on her couch, twirling the plastic pig in her hands as she ran over information in her head.

_My name is Temperance Brennan._

_I am a doctor._

_I am a bone doctor._

_I work with Agent Booth._

_I have a father named max and a brother named Russ_

_I…I…._

Craning her neck, she reached for the phone on the table beside her. She punched in a number written on a notepad on the coffetable.

"Booth? It's Brennan." She paused before speaking again.

"What does "Jasper" mean?

--

Brennan had been surprised, to say the least, when she discovered that she had somehow known that the little pig's name was Jasper. It appeared she had source amnesia, which meant she could remember certain things—but not know how or why. While the news made her happy, it also served to be a continual source of frustration. She was still unable to summon memories at will—little, generally useless, bits of information would float by at random, only to be reabsorbed into her continual daze of confusion.

A full week had passed since she woke up, and she was beginning to feel antsy in her apartment. It still didn't feel like home to her. In a quest to find something that made her feel peaceful with her identity again, she had begged Booth to take her to the Jeffersonian during the day when there were other people working. It was finally Wednesday—only 24 hours until the time he promised to take her back.

Maybe, just maybe, something would click.


	5. Chapter 5

_Here we go, you wonderful readers! I know that the 'condition' is advancing more rapidly than it actually would in real life; however to save you all from a 50-chapter story about brennan going "who am I? where did this coffee cup come from?", I'm speeding things along a lil' bit. _

**I do not own bones or the characters represented therein. This is not intended as copyright infringement. Everything belongs to Fox & the creators of the show...I'm just admiring a little :)**

--

Booth picked her up at 8:00 sharp, driving off as she attempted to brace herself for whatever she might—or might not—recall whi

Booth picked her up at 8:00 sharp, driving off as she attempted to brace herself for whatever she might—or might not—recall while at the lab.

She had been up for most of the night thinking about all the parts of her "new" life she was trying to reconcile. One thing she couldn't get past was the man sitting next to her. She was apparently so close to him before her accident—close to the point of being on the verge of a non-professional relationship, according to Angela. From the way the other woman spoke, Brennan had gotten the idea that she and this man had been in love, yet she didn't even know him now. Maybe if he told her, she'd remember.

"Um, Booth? Can I ask you a question?"

He stopped at the light and looked at her. "Did you seriously just ask me that? Temperance Brennan never, _never_ asks me that question."

"Ah. I see. Duly noted," she said, smiling. "Um, basically…well…that woman, Angela, the one who was…is…my friend…she said that, well, we, you and I…"

"I know what she said, Bones."

"Oh. Well, then, how did it happen? I mean, if we worked all that time together professionally, then began, um, associating nonprofessionally, how did it happen?"

Booth looked over at her and sighed.

"It didn't."

"What? But she—"

"I know, I know. It didn't happen. She wanted it to, and she thought that if she told you it did, something would happen now, since you didn't remember beforehand."

"Why would she lie to me like that? She said she was my friend—"

"I know you don't remember, Bones, but that's how Angela is. She didn't see it as lying to you, she saw it as doing her duty as your friend."

"Oh…"

"So try not to be mad at her, okay? She was just trying to do what she thought was best for you."

Brennan smiled, remembering one of the first things Angela had said to her during her reintroduction period in the hospital.

_I do what you say, then I try to drag you out and get you to live it up a little bit!"_

Looking out the window, she decided that her situation could be far worse. If you were going to wake up from a coma with amnesia, you might as well have people who cared, even if they were the meddling sort.

--

Inside the lab, Brennan walked up onto the platform, instinctively moving to her workstation. She paused, once again wondering where this feeling came from, but shook her head once more and kept going. The other anthropologist—Zach, she thought his name was—worked on a case nearby, as she simply reexamined finished cases in an attempt to conjure up some memories.

After a few hours of that, she sighed in exasperation and wandered over to the other table, where young Dr. Addy was bent over a recent set of bones. She quietly watched him work. He paused, staring at a piece of bone—and without thinking twice, Brennan leaned over, taking the bone from him. Her hand seemed to move automatically to the correct spot on the table, and she laid the piece down. The young man looked up at her with surprise on his features, and she could do little more than smile and shrug at him.

"I guess it's like riding a bike," she said with a small smile. "I still remember how to do that…I guess there's some things you really don't forget—you just always know them somewhere inside of you."

She continued to watch Zach, interrupting and placing the bones herself when something came to her.

She was so absorbed in watching and occasionally helping that she almost missed Booth striding out of her office, where he had been watching through the windows for the past few hours.

"Come on, Zach," he yelled toward the platform. "We've got a new one."

"Where are you going?" she asked, looking up. "Is there a case?"

"Yep," he said, striding toward the doors. "Some sewer workers fixing a water main break downtown just found a body."

"Booth?"

He paused at the doors, turning to face her once again.

"Can I come?"

He furrowed his brow and thought about what the doctor had said, all those patterns of reintegration she was supposed to go though—and then he noticed the way her eyes lit up, just like the Brennan he had known before the amnesia.

And he knew that if his Bones was starting to find her way back, she would argue her way into any situation she felt she should be in. The thought made him smile slightly, and against his better judgment he heard himself giving her permission to come.

Who was he kidding, anyway? He couldn't be without her for very long, amnesia or not.

"C'mon then, Bones, we've got a case to solve."

--

Booth stopped at the top of the manhole cover, pulling off his sunglasses as he crouched down and looked inside. Before he could say anything, Brennan had already shimmied down the ladder and was looking at the body. Zach, who had been covering cases since she lapsed into a coma, quickly followed her.

She tilted her head, looking quizzically at the bones lit up by the flashlight. She allowed the light to dance down the body, suddenly coming in contact with the torso and pelvic area.

"Female. Around 18." Brennan was slightly less surprised at the words coming out of her mouth this time.

"What, Dr. Brennan?" Zach looked up at the sound of her voice.

"She's female, around 18 years old, probably of an Asian descent…" she trailed off as she reached down to whisk some dirt away from the ulna. "Her arm shows signs of stress—not quite a fracture, but close to it…somebody dragged her full weight around by this arm before dropping her in the sewer."

Zach leaned over and looked at the arm bones as Brennan moved toward the skull.

"Her shattered patellas down there indicate that she was dropped from the street level…but that wasn't what killed her, since she didn't land on her head..." Brennan brushed bits of sewer debris off of the woman's skull. "Something was done to her head, I think…I just don't know what, exactly."

"It's okay, Dr. Brennan, I'll take over from here again," Zach said, gently moving a shattered femur to one side. "You're right, though, about the things you pointed out."

She may not have known what the death was a result of, but it was a start, at least…she finally knew something, even if it wasn't her going to help her uncover her own identity.

She related this thought to Booth as she climbed out of the manhole.

"But that is part of your identity, Bones," he said, taking her by her hand and pulling her the rest of the way out. "_this is part of you_."

"Thanks, Booth," she said, smiling slightly. "I do know one thing about myself, though…I'm really, really hungry. Diner?"

Booth blinked.

"You remember the diner?"

Brennan furrowed her brow.

"I don't know how, but…yeah, sort of. I don't remember IT, but I know we went there. It's just a sense I have…that whole source amnesia thing, I guess. It's unlike anything I've ever felt."

"Come on, Bones," Booth said. "Let's just go get you some food."

Brennan nodded and walked alongside him, once again marveling at how _safe_ she felt with this man, who for all purposes, she barely knew anymore.

--

read & review, mes amis. Merci beaucoup; J'amie vous!


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